Little boy lost
by Dreamer-in-the-dark
Summary: Short ficlet dreamt up from my English Anthology book. William gets lost. (btw - did they scrap William from the character list? I can't find him!)


'"Sire, Sire, where are you going?

Oh do not walk so fast

Speak, Sire, speak to your little boy

Or else I shall be lost."'

'The night was dark, no Sire was there,

The Childe was wet with dew;

The mire was deep and the Childe did weep,

And away the vapour flew.'

William Blake, 1789, (edited by Dreamer(me!))

* * *

It smells strange. Everything is wrong. I don't know where I am. Oh God, Angelus where are you? Sire? Come and find me now please, I can't take it anymore. Where am I? It's so terrifying – I don't recognise the smell. It smells wrong, I'm nowhere near home.

Dark alleys and cold buildings, shutters drawn for the night. I'm running blindly because I think someone's chasing me although I don't know who and I don't know why. I need Angelus to come and rescue me, but if I don't know where I am then how is he going to know?

I stop because there's someone standing in the alley ahead of me. They smell dangerous, and they're looking right at me. Now there's two – no, three. I can feel my stomach churning and I know if I was human I'd either be wetting myself or throwing up by now. Clumsily, I turn to go back the way I came but there's people blocking my exit from the alley.

Maybe if I back up against the wall they'll walk straight past me. There, I'm touching the wall now. Please don't come towards me, please.

But they are, they're coming in my direction and – oh my God – they're vampires too! I can see their faces and the predatory scent is in the air. If I morph into my true face then maybe they'll leave me alone and realise I'm not human.

They only laugh. Laughing shows their mouths which shows pointy fangs that gleam in the moonlight. Oh please, go away, please! Tears are falling down my face and I want my Sire I want him now.

I try to run through a gap in the crowd but strong arms throw me back against the wall. My head makes a sickening crack as it hits the bricks, but that's nothing new because Angelus does that all the time.

Angelus. I need you! Sire? Master? Father? God? Lord? Please come, please, I need you to save me.

"SIRE!!!" I wail, but the noise is drowned out by the feral vampires laughing at me. I turn my watery gaze towards them, terrified. "W-what are you going to do?"

"'W-w-w-what are you going to do?'" One of them mimicked cruelly, and the others laughed again. I turn away, wishing with everything I have that Angelus will come soon and save me, although I know he won't.

Suddenly cold fangs pierce my skin, all along my arms and neck. I cry out in pain because I've never had so many vampires biting me at once.

Just when I think I'm going to pass out with blood loss, they all stop. I'm trying to open my eyes but everything's a blur. I think I'm going to fall asleep soon. There's lots of fighting and I want to know what's going on but-

Wait! I thought I smelt... yeah, I definitely did smell him. Angelus is here, my Sire came!

I drag myself up and crawl over to where he's kicking the crap into one of the ferals. Everything's still all blurry but I know it's him because he smells right. A cloud of dust covers me and I know he's dusted the vampire.

Then soothing, cooling arms around me and Angelus' scent everywhere, enfolding me in his protection. I bury into him, he's licking my wounds to close them and whispering something but I'm not sure what.

Sire, Sire, Sire, Sire, Sire, Sire... my Sire... I'm his, that's what he's saying. He's repeating that I'm his, and I am, I'm always yours Sire, I promise, not mine, yours, forever, because you're my Sire and I love you and need you and you smell of Sire and I don't ever want you to stop holding me please, please.

* * *

'Little boy lost in the scary street,

Led by the wand'ring light.

Began to cry, but God ever nigh,

Appeared like his Sire in white.'

'He kissed the Childe, and by the hand led,

And straight back home he brought,

Where in sorrow pale, the Sire explained,

His little boy weeping he sought.'

William Blake, (again, edited by me)

* * *

**Ok – so this was random and short and not as good as I thought it could be. But I wrote it because I felt like it and I might as well put it up here. By the way, the poem came from my English Anthology book, I read it and William just sprang off the page at me. I wonder what my English teacher would say if he knew the stuff I wrote in my spare time!!**


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